


General Skeevus: Ran away.

by Kierkegarden



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Battle Banter, Crack, Everyone vs. Grevious, Gen, Meta, Minor cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 05:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13427544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kierkegarden/pseuds/Kierkegarden
Summary: In which General Grievous trips over his words in battle-banter with Obi-Wan and the entire galaxy mocks him mercilessly forever, behind his back and to his face.





	General Skeevus: Ran away.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my loving partner Tanner and my terrible friend group who savagely jumps on anyone who messes up their damned diction and never drops the issue. Not that I'm speaking from experience or anything. ;)

It has been said that protocol droids can end a battle as quickly as battle droids can begin one. Grievous is neither - but is currently positioned directly in the middle, blaster fire and the clang of heavy metal ringing all around him.

He rushes towards the farthest room in the base, lightsabers beaming in each of his metallic claws. The droids will back him up from the other side to take care of the clones, but if he can cut off the Jedi - well, Dooku might finally be pleased with him. He grins deviously at the thought. The coordinates that he’s protecting are stowed in a locked navigator box and he is poised, vibrating with potential energy, and even practicing quips that he might use in battle silently within his mind.

Like clockwork, a Jedi jumps from the air vent before him. Grievous smirks as well as he can.

“General Skenobi.”

Time seems to stand still.

He hadn’t meant to say it, that fatal phrasing error that would cost him so much. He prays that the bearded Jedi will be too distracted by his fall to notice, but to no avail. The man looks at him like he’s totally thermal.

“What did you just call me?”

“General Kenobi,” Grievous tries to cover his verbal ass, swinging all four of his lightsabers threateningly, “What a pleasure.”

Kenobi actually _ lowers his weapon _ , looking at Grievous indignantly. “No, I distinctly heard you say ‘General  _ Skenobi _ ’. Did you not?”

Kriff. Should he retreat? Is it too late? He tries to ground himself. Kenobi is no more threatening to him than if he hadn’t misspoke. If Grievous could blush, he would have been in more trouble. Perhaps he doesn’t owe this damned Jedi any explanation at all. He is smooth, fearsome General Grievous. And yet…

“Well,” Grievous stammers, “I first thought you were General Skywalker, and then I saw you were General Kenobi, so I corrected myself.”

The Jedi rolls back his head and laughs a low, deep belly laugh, lifting a finger to indicate he needs a moment to recover. It causes Grievous to boil with rage. No! Kenobi doesn’t get the luxury of time! This is war and General Kenobi is going to die. He swings the green saber in his right uppermost claw and the others follow in a sweeping wave.

“Oh no, my friend,” General Kenobi wipes a tear of laughter from his eye, dodging easily, “I don’t think you’re going to get away with that kind of excuse.” The Jedi brandishes his own lightsaber with a sizzle, parrying the oncoming attacks. 

Grievous seethes. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

He twirls his two top sabers to cross above Kenobi, who sneaks under them and swings again.

“Of course you’re not,  _ Skeevus _ ,” Kenobi laughs again, maddeningly, “Am I doing it right?”

Grievous feels a new wave of rage rush over him as he pushes Kenobi into a corner, the Jedi once again jumping over him in a flip to escape.

“Do  _ not _ call me that,” the Separatist General warns, realizing how ridiculous he sounds as he says it. Should he retreat now? There is still time for that -

He realizes quickly that had his thoughts have immobilized him as he snaps to. Kenobi is using a swish of his hands to touchlessly rip the navigator with the coordinates from its place in the cabinet. Grievous bellows with wordless anger.

“In all honesty, I didn’t even know you were capable of mixing up your words,” Kenobi still banters while dancing nimbly up the vent, “aren’t you programmed not to do that?”

“I’m not some kind of etiquette droid, Kenobi.” Grievous crawls behind him through the vent, missing with every swipe.

Kriff. 

Kenobi is already out on the roof with Skywalker’s ship swooping down to get him. Clambering towards him, Grievous takes a final swing, only to fall short once more.

“A pleasure to do business with you, Skeevus.” Kenobi calls out before laughing into the night. 

Grievous is left on the roof without his wits, his coordinates, or his pride. What ever will he tell Dooku?

 

* * *

 

 

“He called you  _ what?”  _ Anakin is leaning his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, as they sit around the table of a worn down rec room. Next to them, Ahsoka is putting a bacta patch on her shoulder and across from them, a group of clones are hungrily shoveling grub into their mouths.

Obi-Wan is laughing so hard that he’s crying again. “Forgive me, Anakin, I’ll get it out eventually.”

Ahsoka grins, “I can’t wait to hear this.”

“So I drop down from the vent - and Grievous is looking up like he’s waiting for me and he greets me in the most smug tone of voice except he says” - Obi-Wan stifles another giggle - “he says ‘ _ General Skenobi.’  _ I didn’t even know that misspeaking was in his programming!”

“General Skenobi,” Ahsoka snorts, “sounds like one of those  _ couple  _ names from the holomags that Barriss reads. Skywalker and Kenobi would be something like Skenobi. It’s kind of cute.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan beams. He is in a good mood from the successful mission and decides to ignore the fact that  _ Barriss - _ who he strongly suspects is a stand-in for Ahsoka - is taking personal items against Code, “I think ‘Obikin’ has a nicer ring to it.”

“Master...” Anakin warns, but he can’t keep a straight face. He disengages from Obi-Wan’s shoulder and turns to him, “Why in the world did he say that anyway? Did he give a reason?”

“I think he truthfully just mixed up his words,” Obi-Wan chews thoughtfully, “I called him Skeevus to rub salt in the wound.”

This gets a hearty chuckle from everyone. 

“Poor General Skeevus,” Rex clicks his tongue, “He’s never going to live that one down.”

 

* * *

 

This time, it’s three against one. On either side of Kenobi, Skywalker and Tano stand, sabers at the ready.  _ This is fine _ , Grievous thinks,  _ they may outnumber me but I still have one more lightsaber. _ He’s nearly forgotten about the incident last time -  _ nearly _ \- until Skywalker opens his mouth and says, “General Skeevus.” 

Kenobi suppresses a giggle.

Kriff, not again.  _ This time, _ Grievous thinks, _ I will ignore it. I will not let these Jedi scum bully me out of my place on the battlefield. I have a reputation. _

“General Skywalker.”

He feels pleased with himself. He didn’t misspeak.

“I suppose he couldn’t add another “ _ sk-”  _ to the beginning of  _ that _ . Count yourself lucky!” Kenobi teases.

Grievous swings and Skywalker parries.

“It’s okay,  _ Skeevus,  _ I know you well enough that we can be on a first name basis,” Skywalker jumps behind him to launch an offensive blow, “You can call me Skanakin.”

“Aw, he looks like he’s gonna cry,” the Padawan laughs.

Grievous wonders if he actually does. He remembers Dooku’s advice about retreating at a lost cause, living to fight another day. He turns around and runs back towards the base.

 

* * *

 

“And then he  _ ran away,” _ Obi-Wan says between uproarious bouts of laughter, “Anakin told him that he should call him  _ Skanakin  _ and he just turned his tail and  _ ran.” _

Obi-Wan looks around the council room, gauging the reactions of the other members. Nobody seems to think it quite as funny as he does.

“You should have seen his face,” Obi-Wan tries to breath, “It was unbelievable.”

“I don’t get it,” Master Windu states bluntly, “He misspoke and called you Skenobi ages ago and now he runs away when you bring it up again? Perhaps there are greater concerns here.”

“Embarrassed, he is,” Master Yoda lets out a giggle, “Use this, we can.”

Master Luminara smiles. “I’m glad you told us about this, Obi-Wan. Any piece of information we can use to turn the tides of war is useful.”

“I still don’t get it,” Master Windu mutters under his breath, “What’s so funny about ‘ _ General Skenobi’?” _

 

* * *

 

“Input coordinates for Geonosis,” General Grievous orders. He will be overseeing a grand face-off between the Separatist and Republic armies. He is poised and ready, he even hired an etiquette droid specializing in battlefield banter to train him in diction. He will not falter again, even if they bring up the...incident.

“Roger Roger,” a battle droid replies, and gets busy fixing the navi.

Grievous looms over him, “I want to know exactly what our formation is doing at all times,  _ droid.  _ Do you hear me? _ ” _

It turns to face him. 

“Absolutely, General Skeev - General Grievous.”

The droids seated around him don’t even dare to titter.

“What did you call me?” Grievous switches on a saber, cool and blue against the droid’s gold metal.

“General Grievous, sir.” the droid replies in the same nasally drone, now pinned with an undercurrent of fear.

“Who told you to call me General Skeevus, droid?”

The saber is now sizzling at contact with the metal.

“Nobody, sir. It will never happen again, sir.” 

“No,” Grievous agrees, making a grand show of mutilating the droid with his weapon until it’s high pitched screams drone out the embarrassment in his head, “It never will.”

 

* * *

 

He’s hardly ever sparred with this Jedi before, a Mirialan female, with piercing blue eyes. She is quiet in battle, which Grievous doesn’t mind at all, giving him time to whip four - now three, she has disarmed him of one - lightsabers around, closing in on her. As their sabers cross along a narrow ridge, she is joined by a familiar face. 

“General Kenobi,” Grievous greets him  _ correctly _ this time, yellow eyes daring him to bring it up again.

“Hello there, General Grievous.”

He almost stops short. There is no hint of laughter in the Jedi Master’s eyes, no apparent mockery. It seems to immobilize him more than what he had been expecting.

“What a surprise,” Grievous says, half unintentionally - and then adds “ - to see you here as well, that is.”

“Old friend, I’ll never get tired of fighting you.” Kenobi whips around, flinging a second saber out of his grasp. It’s two sabers on two now, and he still hasn’t brought up the incident. Grievous feels on edge, awaiting it, and decides.  _ Kriff it, I’ll bring it up myself. I’ll show him how confident I am about this. I’ll never run from it again. _

“Loth-cat got your tongue, general? You have nothing to say about my diction?” 

Then he feels himself on edge again.  _ Literally.  _ The two Jedi have him pinned over the pass. He braces himself against them, separated by four glowing lasers.

“You’ve got me all wrong, Grievous,” Kenobi hisses like his blade, alight with pressure, “Jedi don’t hold grudges. The Sith, perhaps. That’s where you ought to tread lightly.” 

They thrust him off the edge and he tumbles, catching himself spider-like along the rocky underside of the cliff.

“ _ Classic Skeevus _ ,” he hears the Mirialan giggle under her breath.

“Ssh,” Kenobi warns, “he might hear you. We wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings again.”

Grievous scurries up the wall, blazing with fiery rage.

“Come back, you cowards!” he screams. But it is too late. He has a reputation, alright, and that’s not going anywhere.

 

* * *

 

“You should have seen his face,” Obi-Wan gushes to Anakin, Padme, and Threepio as they sit around the low living room table drinking tea. Well, tea for Obi-Wan, caf for Anakin, and Padme is sipping on some kind of spiced cider.

“I thought you swore you were going to drop it,” Anakin replies “ _ ‘He’s gonna need a Minder for five years’ _ , I recall you saying.”

“I did drop it, Anakin!” Obi-Wan insists, “It’s like he was expecting me to bring it up again. And the icing on the cake is that  _ Luminara _ was the one to bring it up as we were walking away. ‘ _ Classic Skeevus,’  _ she said. Or something to that effect.”

“You really shouldn’t mock him like that,” Threepio warns, “He is not a protocol droid and is not trained in etiquette.” 

“Well, I’m pretty sure Anakin isn’t trained in etiquette either and he’s never messed up so horribly,” Padme teases.

Obi-Wan grins. “Not with his words, anyway. I do recall him crashing our ship on several occasions.”

“Hey!” Anakin pokes his Master in the side, causing his tea to slosh.

“What do you think Grievous would call me?” Padme lets the steam from her cider float across her face, “Scadme or Scamidala?”

All three of them burst out laughing and Threepio fidgets awkwardly.

“I do urge you to be careful. Bringing up the incident  _ could _ antagonize him.”

“Scamidala sounds like one of Hondo’s new “get rich quick” operations,” Anakin muses, ignoring the droid, “where he comes to Naboo and tries to sell you fake resources or something.  _ Operation Scamidala.” _

Obi-Wan’s eyes are bright. “He  _ would _ do something like that, wouldn’t he?”

Tea has never tasted so delicious. And Obi-Wan loves his tea.

 

* * *

 

General Grievous feels what is left of a heartbeat resound within him as he draws his spidery limbs into a bow before the Count.  _ He has been called here for a reason _ , he thinks.  _ Likely, because of his resounding failures on the battlefield.  _ He will retain his calm no matter what happens. Worst case scenario, Dooku deranks him. Even worse case scenario, Dooku kills him. Even worse case yet, Dooku brings up the incident. He shudders just to think of it.

“My lord,” he says, “you called me.”

He watches Dooku walk in a pompous circle across the holo, chin held high off of the ground.

“Yes, General. It has come to my attention that you have had many failures on the battlefield...but many successes as well.”

Grievous breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you for noticing, Count.”

Dooku disregards him. “We have been erecting statues in the image of great Separatists to encourage morale from the planets who have pledged themselves to our cause. I thought you would want to be aware that you have been chosen to be the subject of one.” 

If Grievous could flush with pride, he would. “A great honor, Count,” he replies instead, “where might I find this...statue?”

“All of the statues can be found within the courtyard of The Separatist Senate Building on Raxus Secundus,” Dooku looks down his nose at the General, “you will have to come here to see.”

“I will come see the statues when this battle is over, my lord.”

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t take him long to find. The statue is twice Grievous's already vast height, looming over him impressively. The pose that the sculptor has picked is menacing - four sabers held, each at different angles, his face contorted with his eyes narrowed - Grievous feels the warm glow of pride within him. It is truly art to behold.

_ If history remembers me this way _ , Grievous thinks,  _ I will die satisfied.  _ He leans in to read the plaque below and stops short.

‘Valiant separatist General responsible for the conquest of much new territory -’

_ Good, good. _

‘Renowned for his cybernetic implants and four armed fighting style -’

_ All true. _

‘Feared by all, respected by many’

Grievous’s frown at the last line stops short as his eyes widen in horror.

‘General Skeevus: Ran away.’

Recollection dawns across his altered, cyborg face.  _ The Sith, perhaps. That’s where you ought to tread lightly.  _ Grievous runs back to his ship and wishes he was still organic enough to cry.


End file.
